


Day 2: Collars

by Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Collars, F/M, Gray-Asexuality, Light BDSM, Lime, No Sex, No Smut, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Submission, but it still takes place in TF2 so, no beta we die like men, there are zero canon characters in here, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan/pseuds/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan
Summary: There are many facets to Abraham Coppinger that Patricia has managed to uncover over the course of their relationship. One thing she didn't expect to learn about him, however, was his long-hidden interest in BDSM.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Day 2: Collars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PurpleCompromise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleCompromise/gifts).
  * Inspired by [This Is Where We Are Now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990601) by [PurpleCompromise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleCompromise/pseuds/PurpleCompromise). 



> I haven't written anything remotely intimate in _years _. While it isn't smut, this was a nice way to brush the dust off, so to speak. This involves one of my OCs and the BLU Specialist (aka Bluberry), a supporting character in the Medic/Reader fic, "This Is Where We Are Now" by PurpleCompromise. Bluberry is a bitch and I love her and want to give her a hug, so obviously, the most sensible course of action was to write a BDSM piece about her.__

“So you don’t like sex…but you and Geo went to a fetish club,” Patricia said, disbelief lacing her words as she raised a brow at Abraham, who sat across from her in a high-backed armchair, upholstered in dark blue velvet.

“We _scouted_ a fetish club,” he corrected her, causing her to snort quietly but say nothing else in response. “We didn’t engage in anything…” his lip curled almost imperceptibly, and his next few words were spoken with thinly-veiled disgust, “… _intimate_ with the other patrons. We went in, dealt with the target we were sent to deal with, and left. Simple as that.”

Patricia knitted her brow. “Fine, you went to a fetish club for work purposes; not that it makes any sense,” she muttered, “but why are you bringing it up _now_?”

Abraham hummed quietly, shifting in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other, careful to maintain the cool smile on his face. “The trip was mostly unproductive, but I did find a few things of interest while I was there.”

This time, both of Patricia's eyebrows went up. “Which are?”

Abraham sat up straighter in his chair. His posture remained laidback, and he uncrossed and crossed his legs so the one that’d been on the bottom was now on top. “Apparently, the sexual aspect of BDSM is entirely optional,” he remarked, absently tapping his fingers against the armrest, one after the other.

Nothing too surprising, she mused. It made sense he wouldn’t have known about it until then, but what _didn’t_ make sense was that he took the time to actually _learn_ about it.

“What else did you find?” she pressed. As soon as the question left her mouth, she noticed a marked increase in how fast Abraham’s fingers tapped against the armrest, and there was a split second of hesitation before he answered her question.

“I wasn’t… _entirely_ opposed to the prospect of trying it out for myself,” he replied casually.

Patricia’s brows went up to her hairline. “…You want to try BDSM,” she repeated.

His shoulders became rigid. “If it’s no inconvenience to you,” he said, the easygoing smile never leaving his face. His nonchalant front would’ve fooled her, if she hadn’t already caught the tapping of his fingers and the stiffness in his shoulders.

She leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulders with a thoughtful hum as she tilted her head and studied the man sitting across from her, who’d yet to relax his posture and stop tapping his fingers. “What did you have in mind?” she asked. And while she resisted the urge to let out a quiet sigh of relief, she took no small comfort in seeing Abraham’s shoulders finally relax and his fingers slow down, but not cease their tapping against the armrest.

Another split second of hesitation. She watched his fingers briefly fall still, before picking up again just as he began speaking. “Pain. Bondage. Bloodplay,” he began listing off, almost in a methodical fashion. “Being in danger, and knowing my life is in your hands.”

Patricia leaned forward, a curious smile on her face. “You know, now that I’ve gotten to know you…I can’t say I’m surprised you’re a masochist,” she remarked, her eyes becoming half-lidded as she leaned back once more and rested her head in her hand. “I think it suits you.”

Her smile widened as she heard Abraham’s breath catch in his throat, so quiet she almost missed it. She did give pause, however, when she heard him say, “Actually…there is one other thing I had in mind.”

Okay, she’d bite. She rose from her chair and gestured to him. “Alright. Show me.”

He nodded and rose from his chair, as well, walking ahead to open the door for her and stand aside. “After you, my lady,” he said with a smile, making a sweeping gesture towards the doorway.

Patricia turned his words over in her head as she exited the parlor, waiting for Abraham to close the door behind him and lead her to the final proviso.

_My lady._

She could get used to that.

Eventually, she found herself in his bedroom, where Abraham had opened a door leading to a walk-in closet, promising to come back out in a few minutes. And when he did, she saw he was holding a black leather collar, with a long metal chain attached to it.

She automatically went closer to get a better look at it, but paused when she saw Abraham freeze almost instantly after she moved. She watched as his fingers curled around the collar and chain looped around his hand, and the fingers on his other hand tapped silently against his thigh.

Then, he finally uncurled his fingers and held it out to her, gazing at Patricia expectantly. She closed the distance between them in a few strides, gently taking the collar from his hand and inspecting it carefully, letting the chain slip through her fingers and pool on the floor as she unclasped the collar and held it out to him with a small smirk.

“Mind if we try it on?” she offered. Her voice and the smirk curling her lips were playful, but the look in her eyes was shockingly forgiving—something he clearly wasn’t expecting, judging from the odd look on his face.

To her disappointment, it vanished before she could properly pinpoint what it was. She didn’t linger on it for long, however, when Abraham slightly lifted his chin and said, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Patricia’s smile widened, and she looped the collar around his neck without further preamble, clasping it with nimble hands and picking up the chain attached to it. She took a few steps back, humming quietly under her breath as she gave an experimental tug, causing Abraham to automatically take a few steps forward, his breath catching in his throat once more and _oh._

He was _blushing._ She had to lean in to see it, but it was _definitely_ there, coloring his pale cheeks with a faint, but warm shade of pink.

“Hmm…I think it suits you,” she decided, giving another gentle tug as she watched Abraham struggle to maintain his composure. “But we should do a bit more planning before we get to the main event.” She tilted her head slightly, wrapping more of the chain around her knuckles with a frighteningly calm smile. “What do you think?”

Abraham inclined his head, a smile making its way onto his face despite himself. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

Patricia lifted her free hand to lightly grip his chin, tilting it back up so he was looking her right in the eye, before sliding it upward to cup his cheek and stroke it affectionately with her thumb.

“Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> A thing I wrote for Whumptober. More one-shots to come, albeit incredibly sporadically because I have school and terrible pacing skills.


End file.
